


The Line

by spelling_error



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: B.A.R.F. | Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Daddy Kink, Flirting Through Insults, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant After Civil War, Not Steve Friendly, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Prostitution, Sex Worker Bucky Barnes, Sugar Daddy Tony Stark, Therapy, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Verbal Humiliation, but that comes with the territory of a sugar daddy tag, in a flirty way though, in that Steve is behind the times, sugar baby bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelling_error/pseuds/spelling_error
Summary: When Steve first came to him with the plans for returning to the Avengers, Bucky had refused on account of Tony Stark wanting him dead. Bucky had lost that argument, but he was glad for it now. Stark and Bucky's banter during his BARF sessions was a lifeboat on some of his bad days.Stark is both Bucky's saving grace and a complete nightmare when the latest BARF session brings up some of Bucky's old memories from before the war. These memories reveal a tightly kept secret about how Bucky made ends meet during the great depression. This revelation shifts the tone of Bucky and Stark's back-and-forth teasing towards something akin to flirting, in their unique and inappropriate way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 94
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow managed to write a multi-chapter fic about sugar baby bucky with a humiliation kink without there being any sex?? Edit: there may be sex
> 
> Mind the tags: not very Steve friendly. Mentions of homophobia. Sex-Work.

When Steve first came to him with the plans for returning to the Avengers, Bucky had refused.

“No way, Steve. The guy wants me dead,” He reminded, “and he’s got every damn right to”.

Steve had his reply ready.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Buck. Tony’s bound by the Accords to help, anyway”.

Bucky had lost that argument.

He was glad for it though.

Stark’s technology, specifically the one machine he built to reimagine his last moments with his parents—the parents that Bucky had killed-- was amazing. It worked both to help Bucky remember things about his past, and it helped break that terrible programming that Hydra had put in his head.

The downside was that it did mean that Stark saw a lot of things Bucky wished no one had to see. Including the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.

The following two sessions with the BARF machine had been canceled, but when the quirky scientist returned, nothing had changed in the way he treated Bucky—which was to say, with endless teasing and petty insults.  _ Banter _ , Bucky called it.  _ Bullying _ , Sam called it.

Bucky’s therapist had asked if he preferred that Stark teach someone else how to operate and analyse data from the machine, but at that point the man was growing on him.

He told Doctor Miller as much.

Stark had made a rather insensitive joke about Bucky looking like a rabid dog under Hydra’s care, prompting Dr. Miller’s questioning of Stark’s involvement in Bucky’s recovery.

“He’s fine,” Bucky told her, “It helps, even,” he admitted, “You’re so nice—sometimes I think it’s fake” he had said, “like a trick. You’re so professional, clean cut” he went on, “like they were, it gets a little messy in my head sometimes. But then he pipes up with some dickish comment and well—Hydra didn’t have nothing like him, that’s for sure”.

Bucky did reserve the right to kick him out at any time though, which he was reminding the man of right now.

“Not a word, Stark,” he gritted out, face hot with embarrassment.

“Don’t you want to know if it's real?” He asked, smirking, “I don’t think you’re going to run this one by the Capsicle”.

“No,” Bucky replied, way too quickly. “No, he doesn’t need to know about this”.

It all started the day before—with Stark, because who else would it  _ fucking _ be but that insufferable, beautiful bastard.

The two had gone for coffee between the morning and afternoon sessions with the BARF machine, as was their usual. Apparently, Bucky didn’t get enough of the older man’s ribbing during their sessions and needed to spend his free time arguing with him as well.

Stark was teasing him about something—he can’t even remember now—and bumped him with his shoulder. That wasn’t unusual, in fact, Stark was ridiculously good at timing those shoulder bumps so that the weight of Bucky’s arm would make him stumble—Bucky considered it cheating, since Stark wasn’t strong enough to knock him over otherwise, and knowing the genius, he probably designed it that way on purpose.

That wasn’t the point though. The point was that Stark bumped him, Bucky stumbled a little before regaining his balance, and then he caught a glimpse of the alleyway they were passing.

Something had seemed  _ familiar,  _ but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I don’t know, maybe I found a stray cat or something. I think I like cats,” He’d replied when Stark asked about it.

The incident was forgotten afterwards, when they returned to the BARF session, it was to go over the two trigger words that Bucky had successfully reimagined, and Bucky didn’t spare the alley another thought.

Until this morning.

“Have you had any memories return lately?” Dr. Miller had asked.

“Almost?” Bucky had replied, looking to Stark.

“The alley? Yeah, you said you thought you had a cat or something” Stark filled in.

“We can start there, if you like” Dr. Miller had said. At Bucky’s nod she instructed him to think about the details he remembered from the alley, slowly the scene began to unfold in his minds eye—and of course, in the holographic space around him.

_ He had been laughing, walking down a street with a man. _

_ The man had shoved him, though. A little harder than Stark had. Enough to make him stumble for real. Stumble and fall on his ass in the alley. _

_ But he was still laughing. He remembers rolling his eyes. _

_ Had it been Steve? _

_ No, the man was tall. His shoes were clean, shiny. _

_ The man was part Italian—like Stark, but he wasn’t sure how he knew that, the man hadn’t said anything yet. _

Was this memory real? Stark had been speaking fluently in Italian to the café owner before Bucky had felt the memory nagging at him.

Did this man speak?

_ Yes, he was from New Jersey. He was laughing too. His voice was rough. _

_ They were drunk. _

_ But how? Bucky didn’t have money for that kind of thing. This man did, though—he could tell by the clothes he was wearing. _

_ “Pay up, hotshot” The version of him he was imagining said. _

_ There was money, a wad of bills tossed in his lap. _

_ “What’s your name, anyway, kid?” The man asked, he was reaching for his belt. _

_ How did he know he was Italian? He sounded like he was from Jersey. Was he in another memory? _

_ “James” He grinned up at the man, stuffing the bills into his trouser pocket. _

_ “Thought you was supposed to make ‘em up, or something” the man was saying. _

_ His hands, what were they doing? _

_ “It is, everyone’s named James these days” Bucky told him, “If I ask you yours, am I gonna see the sunrise?” _

_ “Probably not” The man laughed. _

Bucky replied, he knew he replied—it had something to do with what the man’s hands were doing.

Alleyway, shiny shoes, wad of cash, fake name, hands on belt…

_ “Guess I should keep my mouth busy then, eh?” _

“Fuck” Bucky tore the glasses off his face, ending the simulation.

Fuck—he remembered now. How did he forget that?

“ _ Cazzo _ , Barnes” Stark’s voice held barely contained laughter.

Bucky just grunted.

“So, what part of that had anything to do with a cat?” Stark asked, teasing.

That seemed to shake his therapist out of her thoughts. Bucky had his face buried in his hands. “That is unusual—what was it that made the connection for you?” She asked.

Oh, he didn’t want to answer that. Stark was going to be unbearable.

“He was Italian,” Bucky mumbled.

“Italian?” She repeated.

Stark was wheezing his laughter.

“Would one of you like to explain what has Dr. Stark in hysterics?” She said pointedly, scolding them like school children.

Bucky sighed, his response did little to help their image. “Stark was speaking Italian in the coffee shop, and on the way back he was trying to shove me, because he’s  _ a man-child _ ,” he hissed petulantly, “and when I stumbled, I remembered something about an alleyway”.

So here they were, Bucky threatening to kick Stark out of the workshop because the man was an absolute  _ menace _ .

“Dr. Stark does make a good point—it’s possible this memory isn’t perfect. There’s a lot of parallels between this incident with the Italian man in the alley and well—Dr. Stark himself”.

“Well shit, Stark’s a mobster now, too?” Bucky couldn’t help but joke.

Either way, Stark started in on analysing whatever science shit he got from Bucky’s little probs that were all over his head right now.

Dr. Miller and Bucky went over some other new developments—his belief that he might like cats, mainly.

“It’s definitely a real memory,” Stark announced. “It’s actually connected to a bunch of other part memories you’ve had with the machine—there are thousands of neural pathways that lit up during the flashback”.

Bucky did appreciate when Stark was professional, although that was rare.

“Would you like to run through it again, see if you can bridge some more connections?” Dr. Miller asked.

What did he have to lose?

“Sure”.

It was his dignity. That’s was he had left to lose.

They’d run through the memory twice more—only yielding a better approximation at the man’s hair colour and Bucky’s age (nineteen, oh wow).

“Start at the beginning, but I’m going to cut you off and we’re going to look at it in pieces,” Stark ordered, it was the distracted tone he used when he was onto something. It was also the tone he used to talk to his robots, but Bucky didn’t take too much offense—Stark did love those bots.

Besides, Stark still talked to him—that was more than Hydra did.

He did what was asked, ending the memory when he heard the man laughing as instructed.

“Nothing particular there” Dr. Miller said, considering.

“Yeah, I know—but I’ve got a feeling about this,” Stark was saying, “James, can you pick it up around where he tosses the cash?” Stark said, not looking up.

_ James?  _ When had that happened? Stark didn’t call him James. Only his—well he wasn’t sure who called him that. He knew someone called him James before—this Italian man from the alley… but there were others, he was sure.

“Okay,” he agreed, sceptically.

_ “Pay up, hotshot” Nineteen-year-old Bucky was smirking. _

_ A wad of bills tossed in his lap. He did a quick count, he knew how to be subtle—didn’t want to look like he was too desperate, didn’t want to offend either. _

“There,” Stark’s voice cut through the simulation. Bucky took the glasses off again.

“What is it?”

“That’s the part that links to other memories” Stark said, Bucky could see he was holding back though, waiting to drop something big. “These two, for sure—” he said, opening a holoscreen to play back a fragment of a prior session.

_ “Where’d you get all the extra money, Buck?” Tiny, skinny, sickly Steve asked, _

_ “Had it saved for work on the car, brought it in for my folks last week and the fella there gave me a deal for helpin’ out” _

_ “What do you know about cars?” _

_ “Enough,” He had smirked. _

Another video,

_ “Hey there, fella. Let me get ya a drink—ya look like you could use it” _

_ “I don’t need your charity”. _

_ “Hey now, it ain’t like that—everybody’s down on their luck these days—specially the young ones like you. Work down on the docks, don’t ya?” _

_ “Used to” _

_ “Better make it two, then. Don’t cha worry, kid. You’ll find a way ta make ends meet—boys like you always do, ain’t no shame in that, kid, none at all”. _

Lying to Steve, wad of cash, no shame, drinks, alleyway, fired from the docks, hands on belt.

“Fuck,” He whispered.

Stark snickered.

To Dr. Miller’s credit, she recovered far faster from that bomb than Bucky was, even if Stark was making it difficult.

“Do you feel like this memory is real, Sargent Barnes?” She asked, just as she always did.

The familiarity offered some comfort, but the question itself left him floundering.

Typically, if Bucky didn’t feel he could be certain about a memory, as he so often didn’t (despite the algorithm that Stark used to analyse brain patterns for legitimacy), they would look to Steve for conformation, and if he couldn’t deliver, Stark could set JARVIS to the task of finding whatever information he could use to prove or disprove the memory.

“I—I don’t know. Seems like a pretty important thing to have forgotten though,” He said.

“Can I be there when you ask Rogers? I’d love to see his face do that constipated thing again,” Stark laughed.

Bucky shook his head at the other man, muttering curses under his breath. “No, Steve wouldn’t—I was lying to Steve about the car thing—I never told him”.

Stark laughed, “Yeah, dumbass. I put that together. JARVIS is running a sweep through police files on Italian and Italian descendant convicts and suspects meeting this guy's description for the era” The man rolled his eyes. “Also, you mentioned your parents had a car. During the depression?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so? Steve’s already confirmed that,” Bucky replied, confused.

“And what exactly did your father do for a living?” Stark asked slowly, like he was talking to a particularly slow child.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “He worked at the docks with me, he’s the one who got me the job”.

“Is that so _ , James _ ?” Stark asked, condescending as ever.

Bucky felt a chill run up his spine at that.  _ James. _ It was so common, so bland and plain and meaningless but it was connected to this web of memories somehow.

“See, if the history books are right, which they arguably never are, but I’ll say they’re right in this case just to prove a point, a car would have cost more than dear ol’ dads annual salary, and you’d have been making less than half of what he was at the time, considering you’d have been eighteen or nineteen, unmarried and still living at home” Stark smirked.

“Fair point,” he managed, “but me? As a… a, uh…” he trailed, unsure of the word, unsure if he wanted to say it outloud.

“Sex-worker?” Dr. Miller supplied.

“Yeah, that!” He agreed. “There’s no way, this is 1936—it was illegal even without the money,” Bucky tried, but for what he wasn’t sure.

“The Winter Solider is going to use legality as an argument?” Stark teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I just meant that it seems a little inaccurate, historically. Everyone was uh—homer, uh homro—” he lost the word again.

“Homophobic” Dr. Miller helped.

“Yes, thank you” he said, “Everyone was homophobic,” he insisted, “even queers were homophobic! I mean, just look at Steve! He was in love with me, and he still punched me in the face and dragged me to church for tryin’ to kiss him!”

Stark chuckled darkly, “Yeah, that still checks out” he said on a sigh.

Bucky shot him a look, that was something to ask about later for sure.

“It sounds like you’ve been confident in your sexuality for a while now, Sargent Barnes. If I recall, you mentioned this was something you were able to rediscover early on and it helped restore some memories of past sexual experiences even before we began using the BARF technology. Is that correct?” she asked amicably, calmly, confidently, casually.

Bucky nodded, aware of Stark’s eyes on him.

“Okay, and you’ve voiced strong opinions in support of queer communities in our private sessions as well,” she said easily, “I remember we spent some time talking about the progress you’ve observed.”

He nodded again.

“Do you feel strong opinions towards modern-day sex-work?” she asked, simply, “And I don’t mean to insinuate anything, but if you feel negatively towards the practice, that might be something we need to explore later—once we have our answer about this memory”.

He hadn’t really thought about it before. It’s not like he really needed to  _ pay  _ for sex. There was something about the other memory that Stark had brought up, about a different man and the words ‘No shame’. He supposed he could see why people might participate, might offer that service. There was no shame in needing to survive, to make ends meet. There was also no shame in having more than you needed and spending it on pleasurable things.

Stark did it all the time.

The thought made him laugh, though it felt a little tight in his chest. “I suppose I don’t really care, or mind it, I guess” he said, “I make enough jokes about the Avengers sugar daddy over there” he winked at Stark who did nothing but grin back.

Stark was weirdly fond of those kinds of jokes. He wasn’t sure if Stark just liked to watch him get flustered when his jokes backfired, or if Stark really did have some kind of kink. He didn’t plan to stop and find out though, since they made Steve gag and that was rewarding either way.

“Pardon the interruption,” Said JARVIS, “I have found a possible match meeting the description of the man in Sargent Barnes’ memory. I have also obtained bank statements pertaining to the Barnes family income for 1935 and 1936—if that may be of service”.

Stark looked to Bucky, a rare moment of consideration. Bucky nodded his consent.

“Alright, Jay, please tell me I’m not related to him”

“Franco Vitale, born 1902 in Newark, New Jersey to Emilio and Rossa Vitale of Italy—specifics unknown. He was described as being fluent in Italian but having a strong New Jersey accent which contributed to police having difficulty identifying him as the perpetrator of several arsons taking place under orders of smaller crime syndicate of the Italian mafia throughout the 1930’s and the death of fellow gangster Russo Cerrera in 1946—No, relation to you, Sir. Vitale evaded police but was found dead in 1948 near a men’s club suspected to be a meeting place for gay men during this time, this was in Brooklyn, New York”.

“Well the name means nothing, but gay bar and Brooklyn sure do” Bucky mumbled.

“As for the Barnes family income—there does appear to be evidence of undocumented cash flow. The home mortgage and repairs alone would have put the family in a tight financial position, with Sargent Barnes’ income from his job at the shipping yard, I can say with confidence—your family could not have bought a car, nor afforded maintenance and fuel at any point during the 1930’s,” the AI informed with little inflection that spoke volumes.

It was evidence enough, if Jarvis was making an opinion known.

“But I took odd jobs all the time. So did Steve. He did that art thing,” Bucky tried.

“Yeah, ‘odd jobs’ is right” Stark snickered to himself.

At that, Dr. Miller finally tired of Stark’s comments and sent him away, they were nearly done for the day and wouldn’t require his assistance any further, she told him in no uncertain terms.

Stark didn’t seem surprised to be booted out of his workshop though and left while still laughing lightly to himself.

Bucky glared daggers at his back.

He didn’t look at his ass this time either, which was really saying something.

“I just don’t understand how I could forget something like that” Bucky sighed into his hands once the door had shut behind Stark.

“You don’t seem to deny that this was possible, Sergeant Barnes. You seem more worried that it has taken a while for the memories to return,” Dr. Miller commented.

He considered that, too.

“I mean, I knew that I was… that I got around, okay?” he mumbled awkwardly, “Steve told me as much. That’s not the issue. It’s just that this—if I was really taking money for it?” he wondered, “How did I forget that part? It seems kind of significant, I guess” He sighed, “I just thought I liked cats” he groaned in frustration.

Dr. Miller gave a patient smile. “We’ve mentioned that memories surrounding sex may be slower to return, as your body hasn’t fully recovered from the drugs given to you by HYDRA yet, Sargent Barnes”.

“But it’s not  _ sex.  _ It’s—it’s the money thing, you know?” he said, feeling naked and exposed, uncomfortable.

“Sex was involved, though,” Dr. Miller pointed out, “It’s hard to compartmentalize when it comes to sex-work, Sargent Barnes. That’s as true for a man in the 30’s as it is for a man today.”

After their session, Bucky didn’t really want to look Steve in the eye.

Provided this memory was real, which it seemed to be, that meant this all took place years after he had tried to kiss Steve when they were sixteen. After he swore that he’d been cleansed of his ‘impure desires’ by all those hail Mary’s.

At dinner, he was quiet. Steve kept looking at him.

Finally, he couldn’t hold his tongue.

“Steve?” He said gently.

“Yeah, Buck? What’s up?”

“Do you still… go to church?” He asked.

Steve frowned, “Not—not as much as I should” He replied with a frown.

“Some of them let queers in, now” Bucky told him, almost a whisper.

Steve’s jaw tightened, “They shouldn’t” He said, firmly.

“Yeah, okay” Bucky sighed.

A long moment passed between them.

“Are you? Uh, have the um, do you need to—”  _ Do you still like men? _

“I’m fine, Steve”  _ Still like men. _

That night, when he finally managed to fall asleep—he dreamed.

It wasn’t uncommon, that if he was able to bring forth an important memory with the BARF machine, he would begin to experience more memories that were connected on his own, usually through dreams.

That didn’t prepare him, though.

_ James. James. James. There’s no shame, James. Pretty little mouth, it’s almost worth what you charge for it. James, look at me. Quiet, James—someone might hear you. _

_ James. _

_ Doll. _

_ Whore. _

_ Princess. _

_ James. _

_ Cadet. _

_ Do you smoke, Cadet? _

_ Sargent. _

_ You sure shine up nice, don’t you, Sargent? _

_ James. _

_ James, can you pick it up around where he tosses the cash? _

Bucky woke with a start. He could still hear that name echoing around in his head. He was sweating but the heat was still clinging to his skin, not freezing the way he normally wakes up.

This wasn’t a nightmare though, was it?

The tent in his underwear surely indicated as such.

He was okay with this, looking forward to it, even.

Or he would be, if it hadn’t been Stark’s voice that woke him, still rattling around in his skull.

The bastard knew.

_ James. _

He saw the way Bucky’s brain made those connections, he probably saw the way it lit up the first time Stark said it, too. That was cheating, he was sure.

It was fine, though. He wasn’t letting that ruin his first successful boner in seventy fucking years.

Few things could have.

It didn’t take much, he mostly fumbled to get his underwear out of the way and was done by the time he was able to get a hand on his dick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Italian is translated in text, and it kind of tries to explain the meaning behind all the words to the best of my and google translate's ability. My most sincere apologies to anyone who actually speaks Italian because I think this probably butchers the entire language twice over.
> 
> TW: Sexism (maybe??) Some of the "teasing insults" that Tony calls Bucky border on sexist because they lend to gender roles and harmful stereotyping. For example things like Tony calling Bucky a house-husband. Also power-imbalance but it's a sugar baby AU so I assume you expected that.

Touching himself had felt amazing, although it was short lived, and he passed out before he’d even gathered the strength to clean himself up. That part sucked come morning—but the solid four hours of sleep did wonders.

As expected, Stark had no plan to let up on all the teasing from yesterday.

If anything, he’d had time to work on his material.

“Morning _ , James, _ ” the man said with a smirk hiding behind his coffee cup.

Stark was dressed for meetings with SI in a perfectly tailored suit worth more than Bucky’s  _ soul _ .

He could no longer say that things (read: Stark’s things), were worth more than Bucky  _ himself _ , since he now had a billion-dollar piece of technology attached to his body.

He supposed that really just made him another one of Stark's expensive things. The arm had the logo and everything.

The thought only proved to further Bucky’s blush.

“I hate you,” he said with  _ feeling _ as he sat heavily at the kitchen island next to Steve, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Bucky was still in his pajamas, hair a mess and his most grumpy expression trained on the billionaire.

“Love you too _ , James _ ”.

“You are insufferable,” Bucky groaned.

“And you’re adorable,  _ cucciolo _ ,” he said finishing in Italian, “Ciao bello!” Stark laughed, reaching out to ruffle Bucky’s hair on his way out of the kitchen.

It was less of a ruffle and more like raking his fingers gently across Bucky’s scalp, making him shiver visibly. Stark was gone before Bucky could respond.

The name ‘cucciolo’ had been given to him months ago, and Bucky still wasn’t sure what it  _ meant  _ exactly. Bucky did of course, speak and understand Italian—for the most part. There were many different dialects, and Bucky couldn’t say for sure where he himself had learned the language. For most of the names Stark gave him, he could deduce the meaning with context. ‘ _ casalingo’ _ for example, was used to mock Bucky’s love of cooking.

Though ‘cucciolo’ had been used first in the sentence, “Come. Bring it here, cucciolo” one afternoon. Bucky had been trying his hand at a new hobby—painting model cars. He was sitting on the floor in the common room complaining because one of the tiny wheels was stuck. That was it, that was all he was doing. The word could have been meant to call out Bucky’s childish behaviour—he was essentially pouting because his toy car was broken—or it could have had to do with Bucky’s clumsiness, or his shaggy hair, or the fact he was sitting on the floor. The word could mean ‘puppy’, ‘pet’, or ‘baby’. With Stark—the possibilities were endless.

He turned to Steve as Stark disappeared, “Hate. Him”.

He really didn’t.

After the fallout of the Avengers in Germany, the fight in Siberia, Bucky had gone into cryostasis again in Wakanda. He was hoping they’d fix him, but he was expecting that they’d stuff him in the back of a closet somewhere and forget about him.

When he woke just a few months later, Shuri had told him she had done all she could—that the rest of his recovery was in his hands now. His brain had been fixed so that it could heal, he just needed to do the healing part.

Imagine his surprise when he was told he’d be doing that in the Avengers Compound?

A package had come a week after Bucky woke up. It was addressed to Steve with a simple note resting atop the packing foam.

_ Sorry I broke your assassin, here’s a fix for the hard drive. Come to the compound if you want a software update, too. _

_ P.S. Ross T. is dead, so I upgraded the team to Ross. E—friend of a friend of yours, I believe. _

_ -You know who I am _

The package contained a new arm.

It was lighter than the old one, weighed the exact same as his flesh arm. It was matte black with the Stark Industries logo stamped into the wrist—not immediately noticeable, not a brand, not an advertisement, but it was there—he could run his flesh fingers over it and feel the impression in the metal—the vibranium.

Steve had feared Stark had melted down the shield, but then Shuri admitted to providing the material and the measurements, and several scans of his healed brain after the socket and its invasive wiring had been removed.

Bucky had been skeptical of accepting such a thing. He’d done so much wrong with Stark—it seemed suspicious that the man would do him this kindness.

“It’s not a kindness,” Natasha had said. “It’s guilt. This is how Tony deals with problems. He throws money at them”.

He wasn’t sure he agreed with the sentiment, even at the time, so he’d asked Stark himself the first time they had met and weren’t trying to kill each other. Because of course, in the end, Bucky had gone for it, allowing Shuri to attach the prosthetic.

Because come on, it looked so  _ cool. _

How could Bucky resist? It was sleek, stealthy—futuristic but not too flashy. Shuri had explained how it would work—he would be able to  _ feel _ things, temperature, pressure and even some  _ texture _ . It wouldn’t overheat and burn him, and it wouldn’t cut into his shoulder and get infected like the other one always did. He’d have full range of motion, it would be faster. It was vibranium, so it wouldn’t resonate and rattle his bones when he hit things with it. It had a kill switch, in case it broke—so it wouldn’t register damage to the wiring as never ending pain like the other one had. 

It was  _ pretty. _

Even more so once it was attached.

Not because it was attached to  _ Bucky _ , of course. But it’s power source was one of those things that powered the Iron Man armour, and in the dark Bucky could see the faint blue glow between the plates—plates that never caught on clothes or pinched his side because it was coated in some kind of film that Shuri was obsessed with since it was apparently ‘nano technology’ which Bucky could admit, sounded super cool.

Steve, while very happy to see Bucky with two arms again, was more pissed than ever at Stark.

It had something to do with the way he referred to Bucky in his note—but Bucky couldn’t care less at that point. Stark could say whatever he wanted about Bucky and his autonomy—the man had literally given Bucky two functioning hands. He could put his own hair up!

But Steve had been pissed.

Which was why he was so blown away when Steve said they were returning to the Avengers Compound, accepting the offer of a ‘software update’.

But it was necessary.

Bucky was getting nowhere trying to break the programming in Wakanda, and Shuri was sure that Stark's BARF technology was the answer.

So, when Bucky had asked Stark why he had gifted the arm, it was when the man had summoned him alone to his lab—Steve was away on mission. They hadn’t yet started using the BARF technology, and he had just started seeing Dr. Miller.

Stark looked to have been in the office prior to their meeting. A suit jacket was draped over a nearby chair, he was rolling up the sleeves of a shirt worth more than Bucky’s soul (or his body less the arm).

Stark had given an appreciative whistle, “Looks good on you, Barnes” He’d said in greeting.

“Right,” he said nervously, “Um, thanks, Dr. Stark” Bucky had stammered.

The man had laughed at Bucky’s discomfort. “Glad to see s _ omeone  _ remembers I have PhD’s,” he said, “A little ironic that it’s the amnesiac, but I’ll take it. Have a seat, kid. We need to calibrate the arm” he kicked the chair with the suit jacket towards Bucky.

He’d initially hesitated, wondering if Stark had called him here to seek his revenge now that Steve wasn’t there to hold either of them back—Stark had denied that as his intention, but admitted he would have no trouble putting Steve’s  _ ‘soldatino’ _ down now that they couldn’t tag team him. Steve’s toy soldier, that is.

Bucky had sat in the chair and tried to keep from leaning on the expensive fabric behind him.

Stark had sat on his own stool in front of Bucky, reaching forward into the other man’s space. Bucky held his breath, staring—not daring to move as Stark leaned in closer, closer. Suddenly the chair began to slowly lower a few inches, Stark having adjusted the height via the lever underneath.

He smiled sharp and predatory at Bucky’s anxiety.

He’d leaned back and made a grabbing gesture towards the metal arm, and when Bucky reluctantly offered up the limb, Stark was gentle. He took Bucky’s arm to rest palm-up on the expensive fabric of his suit pants and Bucky could feel the firmness and heat of Stark’s thigh.

“Alright, pay attention. I’m only doing this once” Stark had said.

He had lied.

Stark had continued to do every calibration—both necessary and entirely made up—on Bucky’s arm since that day.

Stark loved that fucking arm.

Stark had been surprisingly gentle with him, if a little direct.

“Watch my hand,” Stark said when he was sure Bucky was in fact looking at his hand, which was large and tan and calloused and scarred. He moved it to the join of metal and flesh. “Take your finger from right to left along the seam here,” He said as he did just that.

Bucky stared, confused. He also wasn’t sure he was breathing.

The arm seemed to ripple almost, but Bucky didn’t feel it. “See this?” he poked Bucky’s hand, “That’s the nanotech, it comes off and sits in your palm—next you’ve got three panels”.

Warm fingers traveled a few inches down the arm, “One here, this is the power source, you shouldn’t need in there”, and his fingers continued to move “Here,” he indicated the plates above the crease of his elbow, “Is a backup power supply—if something kills the reactor, which is next to impossible—I should know,” He tapped his chest, “this will kick in, it’s smaller—you’ll loose a lot of sensation but it will still be operational” he moved on quickly.

“Now, here’s the good stuff” He had said, Bucky watched as nimble fingers pressed down against the Stark Industries logo, the plate at the wrist sliding back to allow Stark to gently pry back the other plates in the forearm. They shuffled and stacked like fluid.

“See what I did there? Forward into the palm, then pull this guy back up towards you—watch you don’t pinch yourself. To close it you just—” And he ran his palm down Bucky’s arm, flattening out the plates.

He was so warm.

“Now you try, kid”.

Bucky’s hand was shaking as he mimicked Stark’s actions, but the man said nothing about it.

“Good” Stark had said, “So in here, right at the bottom—you can see it better from there—but there’s a bright green dial, you see it? Good, great. That’s what you turn if the arm starts giving you pain signals—turn it and it stops feeding into the neural pathway entirely. It’ll be dead weight, but it will still thermoregulate and you can seal everything back up—you are shaking way too much now, I told you I wasn’t going to kill you, what more do you want?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered.

“That’s nice,” he said, deadpan, “Why are you shaking?”

“’m not used to uh—to the um…” Bucky had tried, unsure how exactly to explain what he was feeling, how he was feeling it in the sort of abundance he couldn’t really formulate proper memory on.

“ _ Cazzo _ —fuck, right” He cursed first in Itailian, then translated to a more common language, Bucky had always noticed. Stark moved back a few inches then too, “Touch”.

“Yeah, that” Bucky breathed quietly.

“That’s a people problem,” Stark said, “I can’t fix that, sorry,” he said and went back to work.

Bucky watched in distant fascination as Stark fine-tuned the sensitivity of the arm. It took him all of two minutes, but when the nanotech film resettled over the metal, Stark placing the arm back down on his thigh, Bucky felt like he was noticing  _ everything _ .

It wasn’t just the heat and strength in Stark’s thigh, but the fabric of his pants. He shifted it a little, feeling  _ friction  _ against the arm.

Stark had noticed and laughed at his awed expression, but Bucky didn’t care. He could feel stuff! He’d completely forgotten about how strange it was for Stark to be touching him, so wrapped up in the way sensations felt so new yet so natural.

“Okay, little Soldatino—I need you to pay attention and relay this back to your boyfriend so he’ll lay off with the spying thing,” Stark had said, startling Bucky from where he was staring at the metal limb.

Instinctively, Bucky replied “Steve’s not my boyfriend,” just a bit too quickly. He didn’t bother to say that Steve wasn’t spying on Stark, since everyone knew that he was.

Stark raised his brow.

“Anyway,” He had rolled his eyes, “Remember how I showed you how to retract the nanotech? Great. So that can only be done by you here in a second,” He suddenly had a tablet in his hand.

“It’s biometrics, currently mine and yours—and yes, I did steal fingerprints from an unconscious man in cryostasis—I have no regrets” He showed the screen of the tablet, it was a list, just two people long. “This is me deleting my information, okay? So, I can’t go in and mess with your arm unless you open it for me first, capisci?”

Stark was a royal dick, and everyone knew that. But he was also unbelievably _ nice _ about it.

Bucky watched as Stark’s name and fingerprints erased themselves from the list. He even demonstrated by running all ten fingers over the seam as was the way to retract the nanotechnology he had used earlier, one digit at a time.

Bucky shivered at each, noticeably—but Stark didn’t seem to care.

That’s when Bucky asked.

He just couldn’t reasonably accept that everything Stark was doing was out of guilt, was a way to throw money on a problem. Bucky was the one with the problem, wasn’t he? Bucky had killed Stark's parents, not the other way around. So even if it was true, that Stark did use his power and money to deal with guilt—what did he feel guilty about?

“Why did you do this?” Bucky asked seriously. “Natasha said that it’s just your thing, a rich people thing—but you’re being  _ nice  _ and I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to go”.

Stark had chuckled, it was a little dark. “Natasha’s right about that. It is my thing. I’m a material girl.” He shrugged, his smile sharp. “I build things. And I fix things, make them better,” he said “I break them, too,” he added.

Bucky considered the man a moment. He thought back to the note Stark had sent to Wakanda. ‘ _ Sorry I broke your assassin’ _ .

“I’m not a thing, Stark,” Bucky told him.

The billionaire gave him a look. He was smiling, a little condescending, but also  _ sad _ .

“Yes you are.” He’d said. “You’re Steve’s thing,” and the smile he gave was cracked and fake—Bucky still almost missed it, sitting two feet away.

It was the only thing Stark had ever said that  _ hurt.  _ That was  _ meant _ to  _ hurt. _

Even still, it didn’t hurt the way it should. It hurt because it was true.

He suspected Stark knew that, though.

“I don’t want to be Steve’s” He confided.  _ I don’t want to be a toy soldier anymore. Not his soldatino. _

They barely knew each other then, but he felt like Stark understood anyways.

Stark hadn’t replied, which Bucky knew now was odd behaviour for him, but he had given Bucky’s wrist a gentle squeeze before moving away.

That said enough.

That was the day Bucky picked up the habit of running his fingers over the indentation of Stark Industries on his metal wrist.

It wasn’t the day he fell in love.

But it was definitely the start.

He thought at first that he was simply infatuated with him. Stark was rich, powerful, handsome—he was funny and smart, had an attitude that worked well with Bucky’s.

They got on like a house on fire. That’s what Steve said, a concerned crease to his brow.

Stark hadn’t treated him like glass—in fact, Stark was just as much, or even more so, of a dick to Bucky as he was with anyone else he had in his life.

Bucky had known that he would never be able to repay Stark for everything he’d done for Bucky, even if Stark hadn’t done it for  _ him _ . He also knew he’d never make up for everything he had done to hurt the man.

He still tried though.

Namely through baked goods—hence the name ‘ _ casalingo’  _ he earned himself a while ago.

Bucky had dedicated one day a week –for possibly the rest of his life,  _ god willing _ —to baking or cooking something for Stark.

It was stupid, and the Avengers (Stark included) made fun of him endlessly, but it was the least Bucky could do.

Stark had complimented his blueberry cobbler one day, and from then on Bucky had found his way into Stark's good-ish graces.

What was a few hours in the kitchen compared to a functioning arm and a head full of real memories?

He understood the teasing though, since he’d just spent the last several minutes telling Steve about how insufferable Stark was, only to get up and start prepping ingredients for coffee cake.

But now, with all of yesterday’s and last night’s developments… Bucky’s brain—and libido apparently—had some new ideas for how he might  _ repay  _ Tony Stark.

And God, Bucky could deal with the feelings, with the way his heart sped up when Stark smiled at him, or bumped his shoulder, or ruffled his hair and called him stupid Italian nicknames that were more patronizing than anything but still made him feel warm. But this? He already stared at the man's physique enough as it was—he didn’t need to pop a boner every time he thought about him now, too.

It seemed that now that his body could potentially have sex, that’s all he thought about. Even more so, that’s all anyone was talking about. Suddenly he noticed just how much sex was a topic of conversation in a way he definitely hadn’t before that heated dream.

That evening when Bucky went down to the lab to deliver the cake to Stark, JARVIS let him in while Stark was finishing up his phone call with Pepper.

He was on the other side of the lab—technically Bucky shouldn’t have been able to hear what was being said—but well, he was a super-soldier and he was curious. He could never tell when they were on or off in terms of dating as Stark acted the same either way for some reason.

“That’s not fair, I want my own sexy assistant!” Stark was complaining.

_ “Do I need to remind you how that went last time? How is Natasha anyway?” _

“No, I want a  _ dumb  _ and pretty assistant! Like the one you have” He went on, childishly.

_ “Markus is more than just brawn for me to ogle, Tony and besides, you already have someone who meets that description just fine” _

“Bucky isn’t my assistant, though—I don’t pay him. Or do I? No, no I definitely don’t pay him”

Bucky choked on his next breath, Stark turned at the sound—offering a jaunty little wave, no doubt thinking his conversation was private.

“I’m not dumb!” Bucky exclaimed “Tell Pepper I’m not dumb!”

“Oh wow, eavesdropping now, Buck? That’s very rude, also you should know I can’t lie to Pepper”.

_ “Oh god, is he there? Did he hear that? Oh my god, Barnes I’m sorry—I didn’t mean you were  _ dumb  _ I just meant that you fit a certain type of uh, man. That’s all”  _ said Peppers small voice from the phone.

“She means you’ve got muscles and follow orders—an aging billionaires wet-dream. Now sit, cucciolo—let’s see what you brought me” Stark grinned.

It wasn’t until Bucky was sitting on the lumpy little couch at the back of the lab, removing the tinfoil wrapping from the plate he’d brought while waiting for Stark to end his call, that he realized what the man had said.

More specifically, it wasn’t until he’d followed Starks  _ order _ and sat, like a fucking dog, that he’d realized what he’d had said.

Bucky’s face heated.

He was just glad Stark wasn’t wearing a suit today. He could count himself lucky.

When Stark had finished his call and tossed the phone in the general direction of the workbench, he collapsed heavily on the couch next to Bucky with a sigh.

He sprawled out like a king in his throne giving a long drawn out sigh. His knees were parted, head tilted back—Bucky’s thoughts took another dip to the south.

“What’s up with you today?” He asked a minute later when Bucky awkwardly shoved the plate at him to make him  _ stop doing that. _

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky replied, unconvincingly.

“Why’s your face doing that? You were all pink like that this morning too” Stark said, tilting his head to the side.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Bucky felt his face heat further and knew he was a lost cause.

Stark smirked, “ _ Oh _ ,” he said, and settled back into the couch.

“What?” Bucky asked, stupidly.

“Your blushing,” Stark answered with a smirk.

“Yeah, so? I’m a little flushed, you’re super annoying—this isn’t new,” Bucky defended a little too quickly.

Stark just grinned, “I’m not going to start filtering what I say now just because you figured out how to get hard, you know,” he grinned, “Best just get used to it,  _ giocattolino _ ” he finished.  _ Plaything,  _ Stark teased.

_ God damn it. _

“I really fucking hate you sometimes,” Bucky muttered, “How the fuck did you figure that out? How the fuck did you know I couldn’t before?” he demanded.

Stark just shrugged, “You’re easy to read and I make a lot of innuendos that go over your pretty little head,” he said with ease, “By the way, this is delicious. You’re a genius in the kitchen, have I mentioned?”

Bucky smiled at that. Stark always complimented his baking—Bucky was sure he was just trying to ensure he’d get more, but it worked, since Bucky delivered cakes and cookies far more often than he’d originally planned to.

“Guess I am more than just an empty head and muscle that follows orders, then?” Bucky snarked.

“Yeah, I see your point,” Stark grinned, “I might have found another use for you,” he admitted.

Bucky blushed, again.

“Mio dio,”  _ my god, _ Stark grinned, “I’m going to have a field day with this,” he laughed at Bucky’s flustered expression.

And boy, did he ever.

Bucky felt like he was going through puberty all over again, less the irritability. He was so weirdly aware of his body, of other peoples (read: Starks) bodies. Proximity was something he noticed now—how personal space didn’t exist with Stark.

Stark continued to make profane innuendos at every change he got for weeks. He did lay off jokes about Bucky’s memory from the alleyway though since Bucky had asked. Stark was surprisingly good at respecting personal boundaries as long as you were clear about them.

_ “Hey, let's lay off the hooker jokes for a while, alright? That whole thing is fucking with my head still. I still don’t feel like it’s real for some reason”. _

_ “Yeah, alright. It’s not that much fun anyway, since I don’t get to see Steve’s face either way”. _

He wasn’t perfect at avoiding it, but to be fair, he only ever brought it up when Bucky made sugar daddy jokes, and it was only ever to slip in a sultry ‘ _ James _ ’ or  _ ‘troia’ _ at the end of whatever comeback he would normally use. Bucky couldn’t tell if being called the name he’d used exclusively with clients was worse than being called a whore in a language only they knew was worse, so Stark used both equally.

Bucky pretended to care more than he really did.

Bucky had also been avoiding talking about these newest discoveries with Dr. Miller, but now it was getting to the point where he thought he might  _ have to _ .

Every night in the last week, Bucky had woken up to dreams about different men, money, drinks, car rides, and the most recent— _ military tents _ .

That last one had left him shaken.

He thought he might be able to ignore this nagging feeling—that ‘there’s something you forgot but your body didn’t’ kind of feeling—and just move on. It didn’t matter what Bucky had done or hadn’t done to survive and make ends meet in the 30’s, what mattered was getting this furious blush to go away whenever Stark opened his mouth.

But this last one? It implied too much. He  _ needed  _ to know if these were real.

Could he go to Dr. Miller?

He didn’t want to. It was one thing to  _ talk _ about it, but it was another to  _ see _ it.

“JARVIS?” He called into the darkness.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” and boy, that made him wince.

“It’s Dr. Stark awake?” he asked, quietly.

“He is in the lab, yes. Shall I inform him of a visitor?”

“Yeah, thanks JARVIS”.

When Bucky made it down to the lab, still in his pajamas but with a sweatshirt pulled on overtop, he cut straight to the point.

He felt like he was on the verge of something, but he couldn’t tell if it was a memory of his past or a complete mental breakdown.

“Am I allowed to use the BARF machine without Dr. Miller?”

Stark had stared at him.

“Will you get in shit with the Accords if you operate it on your own?” He asked again.

Stark scoffed, “No, it’s  _ my tech _ I can do whatever I want with it”.

“Great, then can we?” He asked.

He knew he sounded desperate. Probably looked like it too. He might even be shaking because if that… if he’s right about this… this thing he saw a glimpse of in that last dream—it changes everything.

Literally everything he knew about his old self. Everything about the toy soldier too.

“Tony,” He said, and it was as broken as he felt.

“Bucky, I—I don’t want to make things worse—I don’t know how to fix people, you know that”.

Rare were the moments that they used first names. Rare were the moments Stark showed vulnerability, weakness.

“I’m not people, so there’s nothing to worry about,” he tried, but he still felt so raw.

Stark caved, of course.

Bucky was more aware of how shaky and weak he felt as they walked to the room off the lab that housed the device. Bucky slid to the floor and sat there for a long moment—typically he’d stand, walk around and try to sharpen details—he didn’t think that would be necessary.

“I was a Sargent before I shipped out,” Bucky whispered.

“You were—wait what?” Stark’s surprise was evident, “JARVIS, check that”.

Bucky shook his head, “Steve’s already mentioned it”.

“Really? How the hell—oh, oh cazzo. Fuck,” Stark said with the same chilling realization as Bucky himself had.

“Yeah,” he gave a breathless chuckle.

“Well, alrighty then. Start there—what do you remember about basic training?”.

Bucky put the glasses on and took a steadying breath.

_ He was still in America, in basic, but he was afraid, standing ramrod straight in a temporary office—scarcely decorated—this was for a high-ranking officer who was just passing through. The Captain of his soon to be platoon. _

_ “That’s some fine shooting, boy,” The Captain said. He was young, for the way he spoke at least. Maybe forty-five, fifty at most—but he spoke to Bucky like he was far older than that. _

_ He wasn’t a bad looking man. He was fit, strong—his posture said he was important, respected. _

_ “Thank you, Sir,” He’d replied with a salute, as was expected. _

_ “Please, at ease, cadet,” He laughed. _

Bucky relaxes minutely, but he was nervous. Why was he nervous? There was something he’d done—something he’d done a few times now—that this man could not find out about. If he did, he’d be so fucked. What would he tell Steve? Provided he lived long enough to get back to Brooklyn.

_ “Do you smoke, Cadet?” He’d asked. _

_ Bucky was suddenly terrified. _

_ Something was screaming in his head. This man knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. But Bucky didn’t know what it was that he was so afraid of the Captain knowing. _

_ “S-sir?” _

_ “I don’t,” he said simply, setting a pack of Lucky Strikes between them on the desk. “So, I never minded trading them when I was a cadet like you—something I think your fellow soldiers might do too”. _

_ “Y-yes, Sir”. _

_ “But you smoke a lot—don’t you, cadet?” The captain said with a smile. _

_ Bucky was shaking with this fear. _

_ “Y-yes, Sir?” _

_ “Relax, kid. You’re not in any trouble. In fact, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. I think you could be very valuable to me”. Nineteen-year-old Bucky stared wide eyed and confused. _

_ “But I am concerned you see,” the captain said. “Because I notice you smoke a lot—so you must trade a lot, hmm? But I got to thinking, what could he be trading for all those cigarettes?” _

_ “Sir?” and it was little more than a squeak, he was so afraid of this man. _

_ But why? _

_ “Relax, Barnes—really. You’re not in trouble” he laughed. “But I am wondering about where these cigarettes come from. I don’t want you going hungry because you’ve traded your rations for smokes, that’s all” he said mildly. _

_ Bucky didn’t answer. _

_ “We are more alike than you think, in fact, I traded almost all my Lucky’s when I was in basic—and it was scarcely for rations, Barnes”. _

_ “Oh,” Nine-teen-year-old Bucky said, his shoulders dropping just a little. _

_ “See, now you’re catching up” He laughed. “So, what do you say, cadet? Did you want a cigarette?” _

_ The memory was fading, but not before Bucky watched his younger self smile as the Captain beckoned him closer. Bucky perching himself on the captains desk. “Yes, Sir”. _

Stark didn’t immediately say anything, which made the whole thing worse.

“Say something, please” Bucky croaked.

“Are you lifting the hooker joke ban?” he asked.

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, okay—for tonight”.

“Okay, great because dio  _ santo, _ Barnes your ass must have been some fucking tight because you actually did get promoted to Sargent before ever seeing a battlefield and it was that guy who did it. George Howl, he was your commanding officer until you were all captured. Oh, Cazzo—you, fuck, I can’t even be funny because I’m just  _ impressed _ , you were one hell of a troia” Stark said in a rush of breath, he had a holograph up, displaying the military file of the man Bucky had just imagined—he had the age a little off. He’d imagined him to be closer to Stark's age than he actually was. Bucky wasn’t surprised.

Bucky stared up at him, incredulous. “Impressed?”

“And a little curious, but that’s not new,” He mumbled to himself.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was supposed to take away from that, so he just moved on.

“There’s more… like that. There’s some that I can remember the actual… sex part, now too,” he sdmits quietly, “I just—I didn’t think it could be real. This changes  _ so much _ ”.

It meant that Bucky didn’t rise through the ranks because he was a  _ good little soldier _ —it meant he rose through the ranks so he could warm somebody’s bedroll.

He started laughing.

“Should I be concerned?” Stark asked jokingly, but there was a hint of real concern there too.

“That—that means that—” he kept laughing, “Not so much of a  _ fucking toy solider  _ am I now, Stark?”

Stark started to laugh now too, “Guess not, but you’re still mio cucciolo,” he said with a small smirk.

That made Bucky look up sharply, “mio?” he asked of the possessive adjective Stark usually omits. Not  _ usually _ . Always. He  _ always _ omits it.

Stark looked panicked for a flash of a second, “Er, no, just cucciolo—sorry, I’m rusty, say—how good is your Italian?” he asked, voice casual but strained.

He was lying. They had been back to that coffee shop with the Italian women three more times since the time with the alleyway memory. Stark had been speaking more Italian of late than he ever had before.

“Not as good as yours,” Bucky replied, raising an eyebrow.

Stark actually looked a little pink in the cheeks for once.

“Right then, any more incriminating evidence against the U.S military, or things I can use to embarrass you before I shut this down?”

“You haven’t told me if it’s real,” Bucky said.

Stark smiled, a rare and kind type of smile.

“I didn’t have to”

He started to power down the machine. “Now come on, you owe me an extra pie, by the way. I expect it on Thursday when I get back from my conference in Boston”.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. “Yeah, alright” he said as they made their way out of the lab, “Fair  _ trade _ ” He winked, before walking away, not waiting to see if Stark had something to counter.

He probably imagined it, but he could swear he felt Stark's eyes on him as he made his retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think!!!
> 
> Have I tagged this properly? Should I have warned for more things?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky are you using objectification as a coping mechanism...? hint: yes he is. make that shit your own, I guess??? Just kidding. I'm trying to walk a fine line between Bucky re-asserting his ownership of himself and his desires which he's been stripped of even before Hydra while also playing into his desire to be a pretty thing and kept man instead of a weapon? How'd I do? I'm not a therapist.

The next day the Avengers were called in for a small attack in central park—the whole thing took a couple of hours and Bucky spent the time trying out a new pasta recipe. He wasn’t cleared for active duty yet—he wasn’t sure he really ever wanted to be.

He was serving up bowls for the team as they came into the common room, sweaty but otherwise unharmed.

“God, can’t I just keep you in the kitchen all the time? We don’t need another Avenger, right? Your skills are put to far better use here. Right, casalingo mio?” Stark moaned when he saw the huge pot of sauce on the stove.

“Oh, shut up,” He mumbled, blushing.

Stark really had no filter, and it didn’t seem to matter who was around to hear him. It meant Bucky had to be embarrassed for both of them.

But lately, with Bucky’s new-found…  _ libido _ … he felt like his face was permanently on fire. Stark was right when he said that Bucky had missed a lot of the innuendos the older man made.

The thing is, Bucky really didn’t mind the way Stark talked to him

In fact, Bucky  _ liked  _ the things Stark said.

The dreams he was having really seemed to want to drive that point home.

If it wasn’t resurfacing memories of men and money, it was Stark’s voice whispering words that he should find hurtful but made him hard and desperate for touch instead.

_ Cucciolo, troia, James. _

Which raised some concerns, considering who, or rather, what, Bucky had been for HYDRA.

He was pretty sure he needed to talk to Dr. Miller about it soon, even though he had originally tried to avoid this conversation. More than soon, maybe.

Because if the dreams weren’t enough to prove something was really fucking wrong in Bucky’s head—well then, the boner he sprung while very much awake in a room full of people definitely was.

After dinner the group had decided to decompress by watching a movie together in the common room, as was pretty standard at this point, despite the tension that made it seem more like an added level of suffering than actual post-mission decompression. The team had all gone off to shower and change, Stark the last one to return but was the one responsible for the movie choice this time.

“Alright people,” he said upon entering, “And Barnes” He added.

Bucky rolled his eyes, giving a half-hearted snarl in response.

“Tonight, I present to you a cinematic masterpiece that I take full credit for the existence of with maybe two percent going to DUM-E,” He made a broad sweeping motion towards the large TV screen. “Disney-Pixar’s WALL-E.” and JARVIS queued up the opening credits.

“Seriously? A kids movie?” Natasha asked.

Stark shrugged, “Catering to the capacity of the audience, is all” He said with a nod towards Bucky.

“Asshole” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

“Is this what inspired DUM-E?” Steve asked.

“No, this was inspired  _ by _ DUM-E. I built him when I was seventeen, this movie is only a few years old” Stark corrected.

“Actually, Sir. WALL-E was released over ten years ago” JARVIS interjected.

“Wow, I’m really fucking old—okay, good to know. God, that makes DUM-E like, thirty-two,  _ Dio santo _ ”. He muttered to himself, “Anyway, that’s the movie” He said.

“Why is it only ever the seat next to Barnes that’s empty?” He sighed, coming to sit on the couch next to Bucky, “Do you bite or something? We already checked him for rabies, guys” He ribbed.

To spite the teasing, Bucky turned and gave a more exaggerated snarl—complete with a Winter Soldier-style growl.

Instead of laughing, or pushing Bucky away as expected… Stark  _ grabbed his face _ .

“No, cane cattivo” he said, leveling Bucky with a hard stare that was belied by his grin.

_ Bad dog. _

His grip was tight, thumb digging softly into the hinge of his jaw making it fall slack. He didn’t cover Bucky’s mouth with his hand, but it gave him enough control that he used the grip to give his head a quick little jerk from side to side before letting go.

And that’s about when Bucky decided he did need to talk to Dr. Miller about sex.

Because it had made him  _ incredibly _ hard.

Bucky’s entire body seemed to melt at the action, the tension he carried constantly just disappeared as he all but sagged into the contact—Starks patronizing tone washing over him with a kind of heat that had previously been reserved for his subconscious dreams.

He was pretty sure no one noticed—maybe Stark, considering the man let go and Bucky just stared at him, looking confused and dazed while the movie started—but the lights were already dimmed, and Bucky rarely replied verbally to Stark in front of other people with much more than two syllables anyway.

Bucky was pretty sure Stark didn’t notice the tent in his pants though, so he could count that as a win.

That was the only real win though.

It got significantly worse, too.

The next day, it was time to tackle the last two of the trigger words he’d been working on—it would still take weeks, maybe months—but they were close.

Seventeen, which he was replacing with a memory of a birthday, since he was born in 1917, and longing, which he was replacing with a memory of coffee—something he very much longed for all the time.

Or he had been, except today ‘Seventeen’ turned into the image of DUM-E, and then ‘Longing’… well that turned into Stark grabbing his face and calling him a ‘cane cattivo’.

Bucky ripped off the glasses a little harder than he meant to.

“Uh, I don’t really think I want to do this today” He said, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets.

Stark looked at Dr. Miller, and then at Bucky. “Agreed. I’m going to uh, be in Boston now” he said, and was walking away before anyone could say anything. Which was probably for the best.

Bucky didn’t want to know what would happen if Stark figured it out.

He’d be even more insufferable.

Or he’d be disgusted and never talk to him again.

When he was sure Stark couldn’t hear him he turned to Dr. Miller and blurted, “I want to sleep with him,” and his voice was far higher in pitch than he would have liked, but he felt it still got the urgency across anyway. “Also, I’m in love with him”, he added for good measure.

“If that is the case, I can request Dr. Stark begin training someone else to operate the BARF machine during your sessions,” She said simply.

Bucky stared at her in confusion.

“No, no you missed the point,” Buky insisted, “I am in love with and I want to have sex with the guy who thinks its funny to call me names in Italian because I don’t defend myself and no one else knows what he’s saying,” he explained.

“Is it name calling?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

Bucky’s shoulders sagged. He sat down in the seat next to her—they were still in Starks workshop, just outside of the BARF machine’s blank holographic space. He stared out at the white walls and pillars.

“Everyone thinks he’s a monster, but he’s… I don’t think he is” He mumbled. “What does that make me?” he asked, pathetic.

Dr. Miller tilted her head, considering. “I’d say that makes you his friend”.

Bucky looked up, “What do you mean?” he asked.

She smiled, “Tell me about him—your relationship,” she said instead of answering.

“Uh, okay… well it’s kind of fucked up—that’s the problem. Stark doesn’t know how to be around other people, I guess—and I… I don’t really act like people”.

Bucky looked up to see what Dr. Miller was thinking, but her face was the pleasant neutral it always was. She nodded for him to continue.

“It started because he hated me, he did all this for Steve—he considered it fixing Steve’s soldatino—a way to repair their friendship with a shiny arm and all this.” He gestured around the room.

“He didn’t actually care about me, and he was still angry at me for what I did—so he was a dick to me. He pushed at me, brought up things no one in their right mind would bring up around me, he invaded my personal space—no one else does that even now—I wasn’t anything to him…” Bucky couldn’t help but sound a bit fond, despite the rocky start those things were what grounded him, “I was just Steve’s thing,” He ran his hand through his hair, “It didn’t matter if he broke me, he could just fix me again and it would be fine”.

Dr. Miller didn’t look as concerned as he felt maybe she was supposed to be. Lord knows Sam had his  _ concerns. _

“What changed?” She asked.

Bucky laughed, “Nothing. He still thinks that”.

To that, she frowned. “I assure you, Dr. Stark does not still hate you” She said, then added, “You’re also using past tense,” she said with a knowing little smile.

Bucky shrugged, “Maybe not… and he knows I’m not really Steve’s soldatino either. That means, uh—‘toy soldier’ by the way”.

“Have you talked about that?” she asked.

Bucky picked at a hangnail.

“The first time we ever spoke one-on-one, I told him I didn’t want to belong to Steve” He mumbled.

She nodded, “And has he respected that?”.

He nodded, then said, “See, that’s where it gets complicated. Everyone says he  _ doesn’t _ respect me at all, I mean—he does call me some pretty messed up stuff.  _ But I _ think he respects me, yeah,” he said.

She smiled, “Notice I asked if he respected your decision not to belong to Steve, and your reply was that he respects  _ you _ ?” she pointed out.

She didn’t seem to share Sam and Steve’s opinion on this.

“You don’t think that it's… unhealthy… the way Stark treats me?” He asked.

Her face was consistently neutral, “Do you?”.

“No, no I think he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but I’m unstable—so we can’t trust that”.

She gave him a pointed look, “We  _ can _ trust that. So, tell me how he makes you feel,” she prompted, “this isn’t a bad thing, you can be happy about it”.

Bucky took a moment to process the request before nodding.

“Human—I guess. He treats me like I’m not sometimes, and it helps remind me that I am. Does that make sense? It’s just, everyone acts like I’m a strong breeze away from becoming the Winter Solider again—but Stark doesn’t. Whether that’s because he trusts his own tech, me or just doesn’t care if I do—he’s rough with me and everyone else treats me like glass.

“I don’t really understand it. At first, he saw me as a murderer, and then I was just Steve’s toy solider –but then I wasn’t Steve’s anymore and I became all these other things, like, like his housewife, or pet or whatever,” Bucky rambled, “but I’m still a ‘thing’ to him, and that’s the part I know I’m supposed to hate, but I don’t because ‘things’ are his  _ thing _ . You know?” he said in a rush.

Dr. Miller didn’t reply yet. She knew he wasn’t done talking.

Bucky took a deep breath and went on, “Tony Stark builds things, and he breaks them and he fixes them. That’s the first thing he did, it’s what he’s doing now when he supports me and goes for coffee with me, and all that shit. I think first, he was fixing me because I belonged to Steve and he fixes things in order to fix relationships. But then I told him I didn’t want to  _ be Steve’s  _ and he kept fixing me—but he gave up on Steve entirely. So now he’s fixing me, and I like to think it’s because we’re... friends”.

“Where do you stand, on being a ‘thing’ instead of a relationship?”

“That’s the problem. I like being a thing, ‘specially ‘cause I get to pick what that thing is, I think, for the most part at least,” he sighs, “His thing especially,” he admits, “that’s  _ fucked _ , right?” he asks.

Dr. Miller actually  _ shrugged,  _ an action she had never done before.

She smiled at him, “This may sound counter intuitive, Sergeant Barnes” She said, Bucky winced again at the title, “But you might just be over thinking that part”.

It was his turn to raise a brow.

“From what we have seen, the things—the people—you found attractive before your time in captivity, are very similar to what you are finding attractive now. It might not be as connected to trauma as you think, that’s all”.

He thought back to that first memory—being pushed to the ground in a dirty alleyway by a mobster and Bucky laughing while he did it. The man tossing money at him like he was some dirty beggar, and Bucky smiling at him.

“Good point,” He said simply. 

She smiled, “In your heart of hearts,” she said with a soft expression, “How do you really feel about him? Because it sounds like you just want me to talk you out of it,” she said.

“Is  _ a lot _ an acceptable answer?” he asked with a wince.

She smiled, “I suppose,” she answered, “Let’s simplify it a bit,” she said, “How does he make you feel  _ without _ the extra complications of anything else,” she asked. “I imagine it’s different when you take away the other factors”.

He nodded, thinking.

That was certainly true. If he thought only about how he felt when he was with Stark, and not about how he ought to feel, or how he would have felt in the past, or how Steve might feel, or how Sam might react… 

He would say Stark made him feel pretty damn good.

Stark gave him everything. Stark was the one who set the line—the standard—the parameters for existing and that meant Bucky could  _ defy them. _ Stark explicitly stated the things everyone else had been thinking and drew attention to the traits that Bucky displayed—calling him on his shit—that’s what it was called. Stark called Bucky out on things, gave him a chance to do something  _ different _ .

And that was the other thing, Stark gave him so many opportunities to be whatever the hell he wanted to be. Stark made a point to request more and more things for Bucky to cook or bake, pushing him to try new things. Stark had funded every one of Bucky’s half-assed hobby ideas, from model car painting to actual auto-body work.

Stark always complimented Bucky’s latest creations, from the kitchen or from the corner of the Avengers garage that was now a rainbow of splattered paint.

Sometimes Stark would take a few minutes to help Bucky adjust the paint spraying machine to get the desired effect.

Sometimes Stark made requests. Asked Bucky for pie, or crepes, or to paint a few pieces of the Iron Man armour after repairs.

“He just makes me feel really good about myself,” Bucky said.

She smiled at him.

After his talk with Dr. Miller, Bucky felt better about his feelings for Stark.

He still didn’t feel great about it, seeing as he was in love and super hot for a guy who would never want him—could never have him even if he did because Bucky still seemed to belong to a sexually repressed and homophobic super-soldier.

But at least he didn’t feel disgusting every time he got himself off to thoughts of Stark's firm grip on his face.

He did feel a little guilty though.

And a lot embarrassed.

Anyway, Bucky had made the pie as requested on Thursday, he tried a new recipe and was trying not to be nervous about it while he waited for Stark to get home. It still surprised him what seemingly mundane activities made him nervous now. He experienced nervousness and anxiety a lot differently after Hydra though.

Sam had given him a look when they crossed paths in the kitchen that afternoon. He just shrugged in response to the unasked question. Why was he so invested in the number of baked goods Bucky made, anyway?

But when he’d presented the treat to Stark, Bucky felt  _ a little _ disappointed and a lot nervous at the reaction.

“Good c—uh, person. That’s very nice of you,” and the hand that was going to patronizingly pet Bucky’s head as it always did (Bucky would pretend he didn’t see the action coming—ducking out of reach only after contact was made) instead went to his shoulder, patting him awkwardly.

That wasn’t how this went.

Bucky tilted his head to show in a show of his confusion. He thought he maybe was pouting too, but he’d deny it if mentioned.

Stark cleared his throat and took a step back.

“What’s up with you?” Bucky asked, looking around to see if maybe Natasha was standing menacingly behind him.

Stark wasn’t looking at him when he spoke, instead he was focusing on the soldering job he was working on, “Nothing, it’s nothing. Just Boston, you know? I’m scared I’m going to have an accent or something and I was only there a few hours”.

That didn’t make any sense.

“A few hours? I thought you left yesterday.” Bucky could hear the accusation in his voice and tried to clear it away. “Uh, I just meant—that’s just what you said…”.

“Right, yeah. Yeah, since yesterday” Stark mumbled, still not looking at him.

Stark had never been so obvious about a lie before—Bucky immediately knew he was trying to get caught in it.

What was Stark too afraid to say?

He’d said he was leaving, right after the BARF session failure—he was in a hurry, put off by what he saw.

Did he know? Was this it? The part where Stark doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

“Stark…” He started, but he couldn’t think what to say next.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Stark said in a rush.

Bucky was taken aback.

“I crossed a line—I should have known that it was a trigger for you, I’m awful at this people thing and I’m sorry,” and he sounded sincere, but like someone had a gun to his head at the same time.

“Trigger? What trigger?” Bucky asked, even more confused.

Stark made a vague motion to Bucky’s face, “Grabbing you like that, it was… rude,” he hesitated.

“Rude”. Bucky repeated, questioning.

Stark shrugged, “Yeah, clearly it’s an issue. Look, I’m trying to fix you, not become the new nightmare” he went back to the gauntlet he was working on.

Bucky finally caught up, then. Stark still didn’t know about Bucky’s feelings. He thought Bucky was associating Stark with _ Hydra _ .

Behind him, there was a loud bang, enough to make him jump and his heart to pound in his chest, harder than it already had been while braced for the inevitable of Stark’s leaving. Stark gave a weak reprimand to DUM-E.

“Seventeen, DUM-E” he blurted, trying to come up with a reason for the re-association that didn’t have to do with his dick, and that was as good as any he supposed.

If Stark found out, he’d hate Bucky for real. But if Bucky didn’t say something, he’d assume he was a part of the problem and Bucky would lose him anyway.

Everything had come down to the fear of losing him in that moment, his brain getting stuck on the thought.

Bucky’s flesh hand began to tremble.

“Excuse you?”

“You built DUM-E when you were seventeen” he said quickly, “it stuck out in my mind because it’s stupidly impressive, and then I was just tired, and I’d already made the association with that night, that my brain just went along with it on the next one. I don’t think you’re like HYDRA, you’re nothing like HYDRA. You couldn’t be a nightmare if you tried. Well, that’s not true, you’re a nightmare in a different way, because your... uh, annoying and stuff”. And he said it so quickly, he wasn’t sure that he was breathing.

He used to be good at lying. He wasn’t sure he was anymore.

“Cazzo, okay, Jesus. Calm down, Barnes”.

That’s when he noticed Bucky really  _ wasn’t  _ breathing.

He was panicking instead. He was panicking because he thought he was going to lose Stark. That couldn’t be healthy. Was that his own thinking? Or someone else’s though? How come he couldn’t tell? He should be able to tell what are his own thoughts and what are those influenced by other people by now. After everything he’d gone through why couldn’t he separate them? 

He also recognized that lying was making him anxious too, and so was the new recipe that he’d attempted, and that Stark hadn’t called him by some kind of pet-name yet or touched him at all which broke routine, and the noise had startled him so he was already on edge.

There wasn’t much in Bucky’s favour.

Really it had been too long since his last panic attack anyway. He was overdue.

“Dio, I’ve been gone one day and you’re a wreck. What the hell is up with you, cucciolo?” He was mumbling.

Bucky was still sitting on the worktop a safe distance from the soldering iron, which he hoped was off now, since Stark wasn’t over there anymore. He didn’t remember seeing him move—his vision had shrunk to the gauntlet on the table and the image was coming in and out of focus.

Stark’s hand gripped his face, gentle this time, turning him to face the other man.

“Breathe, cucciolo,” He was saying.

Bucky’s focus narrowed to the point of contact between them. Stark’s hand against his face.

This wasn’t the first time Bucky had had a panic attack in Stark’s presence. The man was better at handling them than anyone else, bar Dr. Miller. He knew Stark got them sometimes too, though he also knew that what calmed Bucky was very different from what calmed Stark—so how the man had figured out what to do in these situations was beyond him.

He could hear his breathing now, short and uneven—hyperventilating.

Stark’s hand moved, Bucky made a noise like he was in pain.

The contact reappeared against the back of his neck—firm, almost painful.

“Seriously, what the hell happened while I was gone?” he continued to mumble.

He said a lot of things, Bucky didn’t retain much for another minute or so—maybe hours, it was hard to tell.

Stark kept the comforting hand against his neck, mumbling softly between languages—Bucky was so disoriented he couldn’t tell what he was saying, or what was English and what wasn’t. It didn’t matter though, Stark wasn’t talking to him—Stark was just talking.

He let the sound wash over him, ground him.

“’m sorry, it was uh, the noise”. He mumbled when he could breathe again.

Stark hummed, “That was maybe ten percent of it” He said.

Stark moved his hand away again, and Bucky still made a horrible pained sound but this time had the mind to cover it by clearing his throat.

Stark wasn’t fooled and the warmth returned.

“Have you mentioned this to Dr. Miller?” he asked.

“Mentioned what?” Bucky mumbled. Panic attacks were not new. His eyes were closed, he realized, belatedly.

Stark squeezed his neck, Bucky shuddered, “That you’re horribly touch starved” he stated.

“I don’t know what that means, Dr. Stark” he was whispering, he didn’t know why.

“Why am I only ‘Doctor’ when you’re having bad days?” He asked.

Stupidly, Bucky replied. “You’re a doctor when I’m broken”.

Stark didn’t reply for a while, “Does Steve never, I don’t know—hug you or something?”

“No.” Was all Bucky said.

Steve rarely was close enough that they could touch even accidentally—more so since coming to the compound and meeting Stark. Sam didn’t think he was ready for those casual absentminded touches he afforded others, and Bucky and Natasha had too much history.

“Dio, no wonder you’re such an attention whore,” Stark mumbled.

Bucky hummed in agreement.

Stark’s hand felt like it was literally feeding warmth into his body—like those first few hot rays of sun in the spring. He was cold everywhere the man wasn’t touching.

“This is really pathetic, cucciolo. People need touch—I shouldn’t be the only one doing this. Is that—that’s why ‘longing’ was changed to the other night, wasn’t it? Cazzo, tesoro”.

_ Fuck, darling. _

“Maybe” Bucky mumbled. He wasn’t exactly lying, now was he? “You’re very good at it,” he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“I’m good at ignoring personal space and boundaries, Barnes”.

Bucky just hummed.

“Cazzo, fuck, accidenti,  _ damn it _ ” Stark mumbled to himself, “I’m going to regret this… C’mere, Barnes” he said, and suddenly Stark’s other arm wrapped around his back and pulled him forward.

Bucky made an embarrassing shocked noise.

“Stand up,” Stark instructed, still  _ holding him _ for some amazing reason.

Bucky followed the direction, and he stared wide-eyed now at Stark, who was  _ very  _ close.

“Avvicini, come”, he gave a little pull against Bucky’s neck, but dropped the arm around his waist. Bucky bit his lip.

Stark quite literally used the grip to steer Bucky through the lab to the couch, directing him to sit and releasing his grip. When he did –because when was the last time Bucky did anything but follow Stark's direction—Stark sat next to him, leaning against the arm of the couch and wall. His legs spread wide.

“Avvicini,” he said again, pointing to the space between his thighs.

Bucky stared wide-eyed at the other man.

He didn’t mean for Bucky to... Could he?

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Barnes—Jesus,” he chuckled. Stark reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him forward until Bucky was lying with his cheek pressed against Stark’s abdomen, just below the casing of the device in his chest.

Stark’s legs bracketed him on either side.

He placed a hand on his head, fingers carding gently through his hair.

“Oh” Bucky whispered as he shivered.

Bucky wrapped his arms around the older man.

His body felt suddenly heavy and lax.

“You maybe had a point,” he whispered.

Stark hummed, “Yeah, I know. It’s stupid no one has dealt with it yet—it’s been obvious since you got here. Now, shut up—I have work to do,” he said.

Bucky closed his eyes as the pale blue of a holoscreen appeared above his head.

He fell asleep not long later, Starks fingers scratching lightly across his skull.

He didn’t dream, but he drifted in the warmth that Stark’s body was providing him—occasionally he was awake enough to catalogue their bodies, Starks fingers in his hair, legs tangled together, the rise and fall of Starks breaths.

At some point he was awake long enough to reply to a mumbled question.

Stark was almost always talking, Bucky rarely listened to him entirely when his tone was as quiet as this—it signalled that he was talking to himself more than anything, but his tone was so gentle, Bucky rarely heard it so soft.

“What brought this on, hmm? What’s got you so ready to break apart, mio tesoro?”

He suspected Stark didn’t know he was listening, and he suspected Bucky wouldn’t remember his own reply later, but he still did reply.

“don’… lose you…” Bucky mumbled, pressing his face further into the solid warmth of Stark's abdomen and then he was asleep again.

The next time he woke, the holoscreen was gone, it was dark in the workshop—DUM-E was in his charging station, and something was pressing persistently into his ribs.

It didn’t take long to figure out what.

His face heated with the realization, but then again—Bucky was in the same boat.

He was warm, relaxed, tired. His body felt good, his thoughts were slow and lazy. The recipe for morning wood.

He slowly lifted his head assuming Stark had also fallen asleep.

“Not a word, Barnes,” Stark mumbled. He had obviously been asleep at some point in the last few minutes, maybe waking at the same time as Bucky, his voice was rough with sleep, his body was still lax beneath Bucky.

Bucky yawned; he didn’t want to get up—he was so comfortable.

Also, he was a little… curious.

He knew it had nothing to do with  _ Bucky  _ per say, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t  _ pretend. _

“Do I have to move?” Bucky asked.

Stark just shrugged and closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the wall.

Bucky laid back down, taking that as consent.

He couldn’t help but shift a little against the bulge in Stark’s pants—no one would blame him for wanting to  _ know _ .

He heard the man hiss softly, felt fingers tighten in his hair for a fraction of a second—tight enough to make Bucky shiver.

“Cucciolo,” he mumbled, warning.

Bucky settled back into his place, “Sorry,” he whispered, face hot.

Stark hummed, running his hand over Bucky’s head in acknowledgment.

Bucky fell back to sleep not long later, once the urge to rut against the couch had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed that in every fic I write that involves the cooking of a meal it is always pasta? I only know pasta.
> 
> If my therapist ever tried to psycho-analyze me like Bucky's does I'd throw hands, but I tried to make her seem nice. 
> 
> I'm changing the rating, because while there's no explicit sex as of yet, I don't think it's fit for the younglings and I'd feel better if there was that extra "are you sure you want to proceed" step. I'm also considering smut in the last chapter! It will bring the chapter count up to 7 though since I'll split the last chapter into two. How do we feel?


	4. Chapter 4

The morning wasn’t nearly as weird as he expected it to be. Or at least it wasn’t at first.

Bucky woke first to the sound of DUM-E at the coffee machine. The bot wasn’t very successful in operating the machine, but he seemed to have the process of moving things around down to a science. He had made a pile of dirty mugs, and was gently nudging a clean one to sit under the spout.

It was the gentle clinking of his claw on porcelain that had woke him.

The bulge in Stark’s pants was gone now, which he supposed was a good thing.

JARVIS had brightened the lights to mimic the early morning sun.

Bucky realized this wasn’t unusual for Stark. The man slept in the workshop often enough that his creations had a morning ritual.

Stark woke gently, which made Bucky think maybe the man had been awake longer than he thought—Stark took a deep breath, it was more shallow than it should have been, but then again, Bucky wasn’t sure how the device in his chest affected him. It couldn’t have been comfortable, he was very careful when he had arranged Bucky last night to ensure he wasn’t lying on it.

“Good morning, Sir. Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. It is currently seven-forty-two A.M, Ms. Potts will be arriving at the compound for breakfast and to discuss yesterday's meeting at eight o’clock. You also have a video conference after that”.

Stark hummed, “Yeah, alright—Thanks J”.

Stark ran his hand through Bucky’s hair again.

“You’re a great fidget toy, Barnes. I got more paperwork done last night than I have in months. Pepper’s gonna be thrilled”.

Bucky didn’t move yet, “She might be less thrilled you spent the night with a rent boy in your lap” he mumbled.

“Definitely not the first time, definitely won’t be the last” He replied.

Bucky lifted his head, “You’re not together?”

It came out a little quickly, but Stark didn’t always notice things that subtle—which was a saving grace more often than not.

He chuckled, “No, we uh… we’re just friends. Very close friends, who occasionally have sex. I don’t do relationships”.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel relieved about that, even though he kind of hated himself because of it.

“That makes more sense,” he replied.

Stark raised his brow.

“I thought you guys just broke up all the time—but you never seemed to be upset about it”.

Stark smiled, “We tried dating, years ago. But she wanted my time and energy like any normal person would and instead I just bought her expensive things and called it effort.” He said. “Now get off, you’re heavy and my foot’s asleep” he gave Bucky’s shoulder a gentle shove.

They arrived in the communal kitchen together, which if either of them were really thinking—was a terrible idea since they were both wearing yesterday’s clothes.

Luckily Bucky wore almost the exact same thing everyday, and Stark pulled all-nighters in the lab all the time.

Except that Pepper was too smart for that.

“You slept,” She said to Stark after they had made themselves comfortable at the kitchen table with whatever breakfast Pepper had brought and a second pot of coffee.

Bucky was sitting with Steve and Sam now, who had just come back from a morning run. Neither noticed that Bucky’s clothes were the same, or that his hair was a greasy mess from Stark running his hands through it for hours. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, since his excuse for not answering the door when Steve came to invite him on their run was that he was in the shower.

“Yes, thank you for noticing,” He said sarcastically.

“You slept w _ ith  _ someone” She said, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Stark had been taking a drink of his coffee at that moment and promptly started choking.

Bucky couldn’t hide his snort of laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Potts.” Stark replied with a glare.

She smiled, “You clearly got a few hours of sleep, you don’t look nearly as awful as you did when you left for Boston and you’re still in yesterday’s clothes,” She pointed out.

Stark scoffed, “I fell asleep in the workshop, which I do all the time,” He defended.

“Yes, I can smell the engine grease, thank you. But you weren’t alone,” Pepper rolled her eyes, “Did you sleep with my assistant, Mr. Stark?”

“No, but can I? What was his name again? Actually, I don’t care what his name is. Send him to my office tonight, would you?”.

Bucky hid his frown behind his own coffee cup. Pepper’s assistant's name was Markus—he met him once before. He was an attractive guy—not at all Bucky’s type. He was young, not even thirty, all hard muscle and a military haircut—he didn’t say much, but he followed Pepper around like a… dog.

Was Stark going to  _ replace him _ ?

No, that was stupid. Stark wanted to sleep with Markus, that was all. Stark didn’t do relationships.

But what if he did?

The porcelain handle of his coffee cup cracked quietly. Bucky subtly brushed the white chips onto the floor.

Pepper just sighed, shaking her head. “So, if it wasn’t my assistant, who did you spend the night with?”.

Stark smiled sharply, “With  _ mine _ ” He said, smugly.

Pepper’s jaw dropped, her eyes shifted to Bucky—he looked away quickly, feeling his face heat.

Bucky’s brain had already latched onto the word ‘mine’ and refused to let go. He felt some strange sort of pride in his chest.

“Oh my God,  _ Tony _ !” She hissed, much quieter now.

Steve frowned, probably having to strain his hearing to eavesdrop now—he knew they both were.

“Relax,” he said, just as quiet, “I didn’t actually s _ leep  _ with him. We fell asleep in the workshop. Perfectly… well I wouldn’t say  _ innocent _ , exactly but I do have standards, you know? I’ll admit they’re pretty low—but not  _ that _ low”. He laughed, but it was forced.

Bucky felt something twist horribly inside him, pride turning to something awful and opposite. Bucky’s grip tightened on the cup again. His eyes burned.

That was it, wasn’t it? That was the tiny shred of hope he had been stupidly carrying around going up in flames.

The cup handle snapped loudly. Steve looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

He tried to swipe the broken pieces away before anyone else noticed, but he was too aggressive about it and ended up cutting his other hand.

“Bucky!” Steve said.

“Sorry, it’s uh, the arm—just uh, recalibrated it” He mumbled.

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, he focused on not crying.

“You’re bleeding, man” Sam said, softly—sympathetic. 

He just nodded.

He couldn’t bring himself to move, to look up at anyone.

Sam at least wouldn’t have been able to hear the conversation on the other side of the room, wouldn’t be able to put the pieces together. Steve was likely too oblivious to think about it. He wasn’t sure if Stark knew Bucky was eavesdropping or not.

“Bullshit,” Stark said to Bucky but without very much heat, “Don’t blame me. You’re just a mess,” he added, yet it too lacked the bite of a real insult.

Bucky just nodded again, not trusting himself to reply with something acceptably snappish.

Why had Bucky ever even entertained the idea? The idea that Stark might actually  _ like s _ omeone like him. Bucky was a  _ mess,  _ he was b _ roken _ and Stark couldn’t fix him. No one could fix him.

Why would anyone want to?

What was he even hoping for? That Stark would fix him and  _ keep _ him? Baking pie and polishing his armour?

_ Yes. _

But that’s not what was going to happen. Stark was fixing him so he could go back to  _ fighting _ .

“Bucky, hey—you’re hurt,” Steve said, reaching out towards him.

He jerked away, standing and backing away, cornering himself like a wild animal.

He didn’t want Steve to touch him, he wanted… too many things. All the wrong things.

For a moment, he was living in a world where Stark wouldn’t reject Bucky if he found out about his feelings. Somehow last night's panic attack over just that scenario had escaped him in the easy way they had woken together. 

God, he was so fucked.

“Hey—easy, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to see your hand,” Steve was saying.

Bucky shoved it behind him, trying to hide the blood, the evidence of what he was feeling.

He was unsuccessful though and suddenly Stark was shouldering past the super-soldier, “Jesus, you people think I’m dramatic” He groused.

“Barnes, give me your hand—I’m probably going to hurt you, don’t hit me” He stepped into Bucky’s space, grabbed the arm he was hiding behind his back and jerked it forward.

Bucky hissed, “Ow,  _ asshole _ ”.

Stark just shrugged, “Pussy” he said.

“Stark!” Sam exclaimed.

The older man ignored him.

“ _ Tony _ , stop!” Steve warned.

Stark just gripped Bucky’s bleeding hand, pulling it closer to get a better look at the ceramic chips embedded in his palm.

Bucky didn’t move, just stared at Stark's face as the man held him pinned to the counter and pulled pieces of broken glass from his skin with rough, calloused fingers.

Bucky fucking loved this man.

“Thanks, Dr. Stark. You’re a fucking asshole” He said, shakily.

Stark smiled, not taking his eyes off his task.

“And you’re a hot fucking mess, cucciolo”, he responded easily.

Nothing had changed, he told himself.

Stark hadn’t changed even if Bucky’s feelings had.

“Well that’s nice of you,” Bucky teased, “non molte persone direbbero che sono attraente in abiti da ieri”  _ Not many people would say I’m hot in yesterday's clothes. _

Stark laughed, “No, Barnes. That makes you even hotter” He glanced up to wink. “quello e tutto il sangue,”  _ that and all the blood,  _ he added.

That made Bucky’s eyes widen, and his cheeks heat again.

Yeah, everything was the same.

“Bucky, are you okay?” Steve was asking.

Bucky sighed, which turned into a hiss when Stark pulled a particularly deep piece of ceramic from his palm.

“That’s a relative term, isn’t it? I’m a fucking mess, Steve,” He replied. “But I’ll survive, I’m sure”.

“Live to fight another day, won’t you, soldatino?” Stark mumbled under his breath.

Bucky glared, but didn’t reply.

Stark still knew where to push.

When Stark was done, Steve moved to step in—only to be stopped by Pepper.

“Steve, could you maybe pick up some of the glass from the floor? I’m not wearing shoes” She pointed out.

Bucky hadn’t even realised the cup had fallen to the floor when he jerked away from Steve.

Steve was too polite to say no and moved to comply right away.

“Tony, go get cleaned up—We aren’t doing a video call with the minister of Health while you’re covered in blood. Barnes, come this way please,” she directed him around the kitchen island to avoid the glass—he also wasn’t wearing shoes. “Let’s get that wrapped up—you’re likely to get it infected considering where you’ve been lately” She mumbled the last part.

Like Stark, Pepper had no problem bossing around the Winter Soldier.

She dragged him into the bathroom with a vice grip on his metal arm.

He was directed to sit on the closed toilet lid.

He stared up at her confused, and a little afraid.

Pepper Potts was kind of terrifying.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on between you two” She said, pulling out the first aid kit.

He blinked owlishly at her.

“Uh, maybe you should be asking Stark?” He tried.

She sprayed his hand with something that stung, he hissed quietly. “God, please tell me there’s not two of you” he tried not to pull his hand back.

“I assure you, I don’t get the same pleasure out of this as he does,” she said, but her nails dug sharp in his wrist as she turned his hand this way and that way, disinfecting the cuts.

“You sure about that? Jesus.” He grumbled.

“Well I don’t want you in my bed, Barnes,” She replied.

To that, he really did jerk his hand back, but apologized and offered it back when she glared.

“That’s uh, that’s not… He has no interest in that either,” Bucky mumbled.

She rolled her eyes, “If that’s what you think, you really are dumb,” she said, though softer with a hint of a smile.

He blinked at her.

“Did you miss the part where he  _ just said _ that his standards are too high for me? Or were you two talking about the other guy who slept in his workshop last night” Bucky bit out, a little harsh.

She had already figured him out anyway. It wasn’t worth denying it.

Her hands stopped. She was wrapping gauze around his palm.

She blinked at him.

“Oh, you  _ are _ dumb” She said simply. He glared. “You are  _ both _ idiots, oh my god” She shook her head, resuming wrapping his hand.

“That isn’t what he meant, Barnes,” She told him as she finished with his hand.

Bucky looked away, “What else could that have meant?” he asked bitterly.

“He’s trying to protect you”.

Bucky snorted, “No, that’s not who he is,” he told her confidently, “He  _ knows  _ me. He knows I’m not as breakable as everyone thinks. That’s why I… Well, that’s why we get along”.

“There are still lines he worries he’ll cross. Everything break’s, Barnes. Even you, even  _ him _ ”. She said, crossing her arms and looking at him, considering.

“He fixes things, that’s what he does,” Bucky told her, confidently.

She smiled at him, something like pride on her face. He felt like he had passed some unspoken test somehow.

She shook her head though, “But if he breaks you—and sometimes I think that’s exactly what he wants—there is a chance you might not let him fix you” she said. “And that’s what would break  _ him _ ”.

Bucky shook his head, “Well if you’re as smart as I think you are, Ms. Potts, then you know there’s no chance of that”.

She hummed, “But he doesn’t.” She said simply.

She turned to the door, sparing him one more smile over her shoulder, “One more thing, Barnes.” She said, “It might do you some good to remember that Tony,” she smirked lightly, “well he takes very good care of the things that belong to him—so if you’re unsure of where you stand, you might ask him to fix up that wardrobe of yours,” and she gave a pointed look to Bucky’s black on black on frayed-edged outfit before she left.

Bucky stared at the space she had occupied for a while longer, utterly dumbfounded.

Was she really saying that he should tell Stark how he felt? That couldn’t be right.

She told him there were lines Stark wouldn’t cross. That was difficult to believe, especially after last night, and this morning, really. But he had been worried, hadn’t he? That’s what led to last night. Stark was worried he had crossed a line.

Well, Bucky would just have to ensure he reminded Stark where those lines were.

He could do that without admitting he was in love with him, surely.

She also had a point about Stark being materialistic—but everyone knew that. He spent billions of dollars on a half-assed apology to Steve. He bought Pepper a new pair of shoes every time he missed a deadline for SI, which averaged out to twice a month. His driver had a bigger car collection than Stark himself had these days—since he just gave them away to Happy whenever he felt like the man deserved it.

He had gifted Steve a bottle of whiskey from 1918 that cost more than a small house years ago as a birthday gift—Steve told him about it, he had never opened it. Stark had offered to put Clint’s kids in a private school, he had bought several properties that Natasha set up safe houses on, he had designed Bruce Banner his own lab at both the Avengers tower, and the compound.

Of course, Stark no longer gifted Steve with anything on his birthdays, and Clint had refused the offer and Stark hadn’t asked a second time, he had sold the properties after Natasha had betrayed him for Steve in hopes to flush her out, and no one had heard from Banner since before Bucky had made it into the picture.

But yes, Stark did like to buy things for those he cared about.

Build things, too.

Just look at Rhodes.

It occurred then that Pepper didn’t mean really that Stark took care of his  _ things, _ she meant that Stark took care of his  _ people _ . Herself, Happy, Rhodes—they were the only ones who received gifts from him since he had invested in bringing the Avengers home to America.

But then why say ‘things’? Clearly Stark didn’t treat her and Rhodes like ‘things’. Stark only treated Bucky that way.

_ Oh _ .

The renovated kitchen that happened over night a week after Bucky first showed an affinity for baking.

The fancy paint machine that appeared after Bucky mentioned he could paint Stark’s boring silver jaguar to look like the model car version that he was showing off.

The model cars before that.

When Bucky finally gathered himself enough to leave the bathroom, Stark and Pepper were gone. Steve was still there, a concerned crease to his face. He convinced Steve to watch a movie with him instead of having to listen to whatever it was that he was concerned about, and Steve agreed, as he usually did.

He thought about a lot

He wasn’t even sure what movie they had watched.

Bucky thought about last night, how easily he was taken apart by Stark trying to distance himself from Bucky.

He thought about Stark's grip on his face, his neck, his waist. The warmth of that touch. How it seemed to bleed into his body, washing away the cold that he still felt clinging to his skin after all that time in cryostasis.

He thought about how effortlessly Stark eased Bucky away from a meltdown this morning. His tone sharp, firm—his actions caring, belying his words.

He thought about Pepper Potts’ advice to tell Stark how he felt. Her suggestion to affirm his place in Starks life.

He thought about that horrible, burning jealousy he felt when Stark talked about Markus. Which reminded him, would Pepper still be sending her errand boy into Starks office tonight?

“JARVIS”? Bucky said suddenly, interrupting the movie.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” and was the AI doing that on purpose?

“Is Dr. Stark available?” He asked, standing up.

Steve shot him a look.

“Sir is still on a call along with Ms. Potts. Is there an emergency?” The AI asked.

“Uh, no. But tell him I need to see him as soon as Ms. Potts is gone, please,” he requested.

“Of course,” JARVIS replied.

Bucky was moving to leave, “Sorry, Steve. I completely forgot about something I needed to do,” He lied, vaguely.

He all but ran to his room, stripping as soon as the door was closed. He turned the shower to near scalding, grabbed a hairbrush and tackled the mess of his hair with the brush, lemongrass scented conditioner and the steaming water.

He shaved his stubbled jaw, used the scented soaps that made his skin feel extra soft, and applied coconut scented lip balm when he was finished in the shower.

He tried to do his best to hide the dead ends of his hair with different oils, but ended up tying up the top part that was still shorter than the rest so it looked more ‘artfully messy’ than frizzy.

He pulled on his nicest jeans—they had a tear from his left knee to shin, but they at least fit okay. He wore a  _ white  _ t-shirt this time, and his usual black sweater, a more faded shade of black than the jeans. It had a torn pocket he had repaired with dental floss, and the zipper was broken. It wasn’t his nicest outfit—in fact he could have done better, but that wasn’t what he was going for.

He did rinse the mud off his boots though.

“Sir is on his way to the kitchen now, if you’d like to join him, Sergeant Barnes” JARVIS said, just as Bucky finished lacing his boots.

He felt weirdly nervous on his way there, though he didn’t know why. He was only trying to distract Stark from going out with Markus. That was all.

Steve was there too, of course.

It didn’t matter though. He needed to stop Stark from sleeping with Markus—because Markus was _ boring _ , and Stark shouldn’t bother with boring people. Bucky thought no more on why he was suddenly so fixated on stopping Stark and Markus tonight. Why he was moving, thinking, feeling with such an urgency.

Luckily, Stark was eating a slice of Bucky’s pie, which offered a great conversation-in.

“Hey, you like that one?” Bucky asked, sliding into the seat across from him. He gave Steve a nod as he passed, but otherwise said nothing to the blonde.

“Delicious as always, mio casalingo”.

Bucky smiled and leaned forward, elbow on the table.

“It’s a new recipe, did you notice?” He said, keeping his voice neutral as he started to twirl a piece of his hair around his finger.

Stark's eyes tracked the motion.

He simply hummed, raising an eyebrow at Bucky’s antics.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, Stark's eyes shot over to him, but Bucky paid the other man no mind.

“You busy tonight?” Bucky went on. He bit his lip to keep from smiling at Stark’s shocked expression. Whiskey coloured eyes darted to Bucky’s mouth before returning to meet his own.

“I was going to try my luck with Peppers assistant, I’m sure you remember that though, since you were eavesdropping” Stark said flatly.

Bucky didn’t pretend to feel bad about it, nor did he let it redirect his thoughts, he just smiled back at him.

He had a mission. Stop Stark from seeing Markus. Because Markus was dull. Not worth Stark’s time.

Bucky was being a good friend.

“He’s alright, I guess” Bucky shrugged, pursing his lips, “His name’s Markus, by the way”.

Stark raised his eyebrow even further, “Are you trying to join us, attenzioni?”  _ Attention whore, _ he called Bucky in Italian this time. 

Bucky made a face at that, and Steve made a shocked noise.

“Gross, no,” Buck denied, “Don’t you find him boring?” Bucky said, tilting his head to the side.

Stark smirked, “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him, Barnes. I wasn’t planning to take him to dinner” he rolled his eyes.

Steve scoffed, “That’s disgusting”.

They both ignored him now.

“Well, either way…” Bucky said, “How many pies will it take for you to ditch him tonight?”.

Stark leaned back in his chair, considering Bucky from a distance.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought, “Your cooking is pretty orgasmic, but I think that depends on what you really want, since I’m sure you’re not angling for my abstinence, troia”.

Bucky long since gave up fighting Stark when he called him that, when he made comment on Bucky’s past, when he brought to memory that Bucky had been a  _ whore _ .

Bucky grinned, humming, “That brings me to my next question,” he said, and they were flirting. Almost like human flirting. “How many baked goods can I trade for a new sweater?” He asked, sweetly, toying with the broken zipper of his hoodie, “This one’s broken, see?” He leaned in further and looked up at Stark through his lashes.

“Bucky!” Steve hissed.

“Vale la pena sconvolgere il tuo padrone, cane?”  _ Is it worth upsetting your master, dog? _

Bucky blushed, sliding back a bit—he was leaning over the table pretty suggestively. This was only a distraction to stop Stark and Markus from sleeping together. He wasn’t  _ actually _ flirting.

“Maybe,” He replied, shrugging.

“Leccaculo,” Stark mumbled.  _ Kiss ass _ . How original.

Stark reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat, he pulled out his wallet and then from it a black plastic card.

“Why don’t I give you this,” He said, holding it between two fingers just out of Bucky’s reach, “and you can go ahead and replace your entire wardrobe with things that aren’t covered in blood and falling apart?” Stark offered with a self-satisfied grin.

Bucky couldn’t help but perk up at that.

Tony Stark was a material man.

But then again, so was Bucky Barnes, back in the day.

He leaned in again, up on his elbows across the table with one hand under his chin and the other returning to twirl his hair.

“That is more worth it,” Bucky smirked.

Stark's pupils were blown, his eyes darted to Bucky’s mouth again. Bucky didn’t read into it.

“So, should I cancel your plans with Markus for you, Dr. Stark?” He asked cheekily.

Stark chuckled, shaking his head. “Cucciolo, you don’t have any idea how to do that, for one, and for two, I could just give you my card,” and he waved the shiny black plastic in front of Bucky’s face, “and then I could still get laid”.

Bucky pouted. This wasn’t working.

“I don’t have a licence, so I still need a ride—preferably in a shiny red and gold jaguar… otherwise grandpa America is going to bring me to the nearest thrift store” He tried, he even batted his eyelashes.

Steve made an offended noise, which Bucky again, ignored.

Stark leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “So let me get this clear,  _ James, _ ” he said smirking, “You want me to cancel my plans to fuck Pepper’s assistant, probably over my desk at SI in case you were wondering, so that I can take you shopping for new clothes in exchange for baked goods?”

Bucky wanted to say; ‘ _ you can fuck me over your desk _ ’ but he bit his tongue.

“It’s my only real skill, you know” He said instead.

Why was he even doing this? Clearly Stark wanted Markus—and not Bucky. Who was Bucky compared to Markus anyway? Markus wasn’t broken. He had more to offer Stark, since Stark wanted the things he could offer, at least. He still stood by his original statement about Markus being boring though.

“Oh, that’s not true” Stark smirked, suddenly leaning forward, “I’ve seen you use other valuable skills, haven’t I, James?” he said, gripping Bucky’s chin and pressing his thumb into his bottom lip.

Bucky stared back at him, wide eyed and a little panicked, his face was on fire.

He forgot about the part where Stark was much better at this than he was.

“You—uh, you can call me James all night if you take me out,” He stuttered, it was little more than a whisper.

Stark grinned, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

He moved his hand away, dragging his thumb against Bucky’s mouth, “And I’m taking you to a hairdresser”. He said, simply.

Bucky frowned, “But I like my hair long,” He said. He didn’t want to change his hair. Steve had already tried.

“So, do I,” Stark said, taking a lock of hair between his fingers. He had put the credit card away at some point, “Just need to trim the end, cucciolo. Groom you so you look less rabid, maybe then someone else will sit near you” He said, pointedly looking over at Steve.

Bucky shrugged, “You can sure try”.

“Oh, and you’re going to model for me—If I’m not getting laid, I deserve to at least look at something pretty”.

“Jesus, Stark! Don’t be such a fucking asshole” Clint exclaimed from somewhere else in the room.

Stark’s grin turned sharp, “Oh, I could be much, much worse” he didn’t take his eyes off of Bucky while he said it, and it felt like a promise.

He gave a sharp little tug on the lock of hair he had in his fingers, “Dismissed, meet me in the garage in twenty minutes”. And then Stark was leaving.

Bucky took a second before daring to look up at the room full of people.

“What the hell was that about, Bucky?” Steve asked, a tone of disappointment ringing loud and clear.

Bucky just shrugged, “My sweater broke,” was all he had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like there will be a bit of smuts at the very end, in Chapter 7 for those of you who started reading before the rating went up. I will add tags as they apply! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://notdoingsohot.tumblr.com/)


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